


Drunk on You

by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Cute, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Soft Eddie Diaz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23957965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/pseuds/letmetellyouaboutmyfeels
Summary: One of the joys of being in a proper long term adult relationship is having tipsy sex and then passing the fuck out immediately afterwards.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 734





	Drunk on You

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted here: https://letmetellyouaboutmyfeels.tumblr.com/post/616970022083084288/hi-youre-absolutely-amazing-and-the-smut-queen

Eddie’s approaching thirty faster than he can blink. He’s a father, he’s seen war, he’s run through fire. He’s loved and lost a wife, sort-of got her back, fought with her, and then lost her again. He has health insurance, for crying out loud. He’s far from a teenager or the irresponsible college kid he never got to be.

And yet here he is, tipsy and stumbling into walls, his mouth latched to a neck and his hands sliding up his partner’s shirt like he’s about to fuck them against a wall.

Except it’s not some random hookup he’s clumsily making out with, it’s his boyfriend.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he whispers against Buck’s lips, but he’s grinning wildly and so is Buck, so the admonition doesn’t really stick. Buck presses him into the wall and Eddie shoves his thigh in between Buck’s legs, making Buck gasp and grind down. He’s hard, fuck, they both are, and riding the high of a job well done followed by a 118 station hangout at the bar.

“I want…” Buck’s voice trails off into a whine as Eddie revisits that spot on his neck, sucks at it to make an even darker hickey. Girls (and sometimes guys) still ask for Buck’s number all the time despite Buck’s indifference, and Eddie likes leaving little marks that show them Buck’s taken.

“Mmm, yeah, I know what you want.” Buck’s so fucking obvious and Eddie loves it.

They stumble down the hall and into the living room, where Buck nearly loses his fucking footing on Christopher’s backpack, left on the floor (again). “Jesus fuck!”

“Shhh!”

Buck laughs and reels Eddie in by yanking on the front of his shirt, and Eddie goes, of course he does. Buck’s smile is like fucking sunshine, his eyes crinkled up in the corners, and Eddie wants him, loves him, so bad it fucking aches in his chest like he cracked all his ribs.

“We gotta get to the bed,” Buck whispers, but Eddie’s a lot more concerned with getting his hands all over Buck’s skin and kissing him deep as he can. Buck makes the _best_ fucking noises when Eddie kisses him. He’s never been with someone who’s so obvious in their affection and their desire for it, and he’s addicted. Buck lights up like a Christmas tree when Eddie kisses him, touches him, _smiles_ at him, and it makes Eddie do all those things _more,_ because how could he not when he gets that kind of reaction?

It creates the best kind of feedback loop. He doesn’t know how he went so long without this.

He’s extremely invested in getting Buck’s shirt up over his head when they go careening into another wall and they dissolve into silent laughter, Eddie propping Buck up so the idiot doesn’t fall to the floor. “Okay, okay, c’mon.”

Buck surges forward, kissing him, and they don’t stop until they get to the bedroom. _Their_ bedroom. Buck officially moved in last month, even though he’d unofficially been living there for about six, and every time Eddie sees Buck’s clothes hanging in the closet, or thrown into the laundry hamper, or sees Buck’s shampoo in the shower, or Buck’s ridiculous thriller paperbacks on the bookshelf, he gets a new thrill in his chest. Buck makes him feel so fucking warm, like there’s a comforting fire inside of him, and it was absolutely fucking terrifying at first but now it’s… it’s home.

He finally succeeds in getting Buck’s damn shirt off and obligingly lets Buck get his own clothes off in turn, grabbing the lube from the bedside drawer. Their test results came back last week so he doesn’t have to grab condoms, and boy hadn’t _that_ been a fun day. He’d literally tackled Buck onto the couch and they’d made an absolute fucking mess but the resulting dry cleaning bill for the upholstery had been one hundred percent worth it.

“What do you want?” Buck asks, panting, yanking his pants down like they’re on fire. He’s still grinning, like you couldn’t pry the smile off his face with a crowbar, and it’s the cutest fucking thing.

Eddie crawls onto the bed and then gets distracted from the question by kissing him. What? Buck’s a very good kisser. “Mmm. On your side.”

He just—he wants to be as close to Buck as possible. He wants to feel every inch of skin pressed together.

Buck winks and obliges him, and Eddie _lives_ for the hitch in Buck’s breath as he slots up behind him and slides his hands down Buck’s chest. Buck’s sensitive just about everywhere, always skin hungry, and Eddie loves indulging him. He lightly pinches one of Buck’s nipples and Buck arches back, grinding his ass against Eddie’s cock, tilting his head back to rest it on Eddie’s shoulder and exposing his throat.

Well. It would be a _shame_ not to kiss it.

Buck laughs softly as Eddie’s fingers skim lower, over Buck’s ribs. “Ticklish?” Eddie murmurs around a mouthful of Buck’s skin.

“You know it, asshole,” Buck huffs, but Eddie can hear the grin in his voice. He skims his fingers over the spot a few more times deliberately, making Buck squirm and elbow him in retaliation.

It’s been so fucking long since he could be this relaxed with someone. Since he could _laugh_ during sex, since he knew someone’s body so well that he could bypass confidence and go right into comfortable. He knows every fucking curve and dip and angle of Buck, just like Buck knows every inch of him. It’s _safe,_ and he’s never felt that in a relationship. Never felt like he didn’t have to pretend. That he could be soft, and it would be okay.

“Touch yourself,” he murmurs, right in Buck’s ear, and Buck shivers, doing as he’s told, his fingers wrapping around his cock immediately. Buck gives one hundred percent of his trust to Eddie and Eddie will never, can never, find the words to tell him how much that means—but he suspects Buck knows anyway. Buck always seems to know, when it comes to Eddie, even without Eddie telling him.

As Buck strokes himself, Eddie slicks up his fingers, gets them nice and covered before he starts rubbing around Buck’s rim. Buck hisses slightly at the chill from the lube, but then immediately relaxes against Eddie’s touch, until Eddie can work a finger into him. He can still remember their first time, when Buck took forever to be ready for a second finger, his body completely unused to this intrusion—but now Buck’s _eager,_ whining for a second finger like the spoiled brat he is.

Eddie’s aware that he’s the one spoiling Buck but who cares? It’s his boyfriend. He’ll spoil him if he likes.

He hitches Buck’s thigh up, gets a better angle to prep him, biting his lip at the feeling of Buck hot and tight around his fingers. He likes to get fucked every once in a while, a random itch that needs scratching, and it’s a quick and easy way to turn Buck into a babbling mess—but he really, _really_ likes fucking Buck.

“I’m good,” Buck whispers, turning his head to softly kiss along Eddie’s jaw, his lips catching slightly on the stubble. “Fuck, babe, ‘m good, promise.”

Buck generally uses pet names at top volume, in public, and in circumstances planned for maximum humor. He once shouted _hey babydoll_ at Eddie across the station and Eddie had to sternly remind himself that he’s in love with this idiot and would regret it if he strangled Buck, while Chimney laughed so hard he was red in the face.

But every once in a while, a _babe_ will slip out when he’s desperately turned on, or when he’s extremely emotional, and Eddie knows it’s just Buck’s habit, the pet name he’d use on girlfriends, but he doesn’t care because he knows what Buck _means_ with it and that’s all that matters to him.

“Okay.” At first, he wasn’t sure about Buck being able to gauge his own body’s readiness, but by now, he trusts him. “Okay, I’ve got you.”

Buck shifts himself up, and Eddie nudges the head of his cock against Buck’s entrance, keeping a hold as Buck slowly lowers himself back down. Like this, Eddie’s got his arms around Buck, can lean over him, watch his face, watch Buck stroke himself, kiss Buck everywhere he wants, _hold_ him.

It’s not the best angle for, well, fucking, if you want to go hard and deep. He’s more rocking into Buck than anything. But he doesn’t care. He just wants Buck close. Contact, everywhere. And like this, he gets it.

He plants kisses, soft, slightly sloppy ones, all over Buck’s throat and shoulder until Buck grabs the back of his head and yanks him down, kissing him properly, a mess of teeth and tongues. Eddie nearly slips out and he bursts out laughing, “hold on, hold on for two seconds, fucking hell,” adjusts himself, gets back inside. Buck’s shaking, either from chuckling or the stimulation, Eddie’s not sure—maybe it’s both.

He bats Buck’s hand away from his cock and starts stroking it himself as Buck grabs onto his shoulder, moaning. It’s a quiet moan —they’ve got a ten year old next door and the walls aren’t _that_ thick—but it goes right through Eddie like a stroke of lightning. He keeps rocking into Buck, feeling the slick slide of their skin, now soaked in sweat, reveling in the touch all over, in the hot clench that he keeps diving into. They’re not so much kissing now as panting into each other’s mouths, but that’s fine, that’s more than fine, because he’s so close, and he wants this to last forever but it’s just so _good…_

Time seems to stretch out like molasses, warm and sticky and indefinable, a millennia passing in between each thrust and the next. He shifts his hips a little and _grinds,_ and judging by the shudder and jerk Buck gives, he’s found his prostate. Perfect. He strikes at that spot again and again, sinking his teeth into Buck’s shoulder, and he feels Buck spilling all over his fingers as he loses himself in a space that’s all skin and hands and mouths and no time, no time at all, just love.

Buck rolls away from him and off the bed, landing on his feet—wobbly, but managing to stick the dismount—to head for the bathroom and clean them up. Eddie grins lazily as the bathroom light flicks on and he gets the fantastic view of Buck’s naked body silhouetted against it, the broad shoulders and fine neck marred with bite marks and hickeys, the strong back covered in red nail scratches, the pale stomach and thighs coated in drying spend.

He looks perfectly imperfect, and he’s Eddie’s. Just as Eddie’s his, God, he belongs so much to this man that if Buck ever left, Eddie would crumble. He couldn’t build his walls back up because there’d be no bricks, not even dust, left to rebuild with.

Buck pads back into the room, all cleaned up and tissues in hand, and Eddie pulls him right in. Because that’s the best part - Buck will never leave. He knows that now. It’s sunk into his bones.

“You’re so hot,” Buck slurs, kissing him, and Eddie rolls his eyes because that’s a surefire sign Buck’s about to pass out. His mouth tastes like beer and nachos from the bar, and when Eddie splays his hand over Buck’s chest, he can feel Buck’s steady heartbeat.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Eddie flips him over onto his back and then promptly flops on top, using Buck’s shoulder as a pillow. “Jesus, I haven’t had drunk sex in years.”

“Mm. Me neither. ‘S good, though.”

“Everything’s good when you’re drunk.”

Buck’s arm comes around and his fingers trail up and down Eddie’s spine. “Nah,” he corrects. “Everything’s good with you.”

It’s the last thing Eddie hears before he passes out.


End file.
